Detective Conan: Becoming a Tycoon in Tokyo! [12]

“It’s a game of Elementary School Detective vs. the Black Organization,” Kudō Yūsaku said solemnly.

With his naturally serious face, he delivered the line so earnestly it almost sounded believable.

If Shōichi had been an idiot, he might’ve bought it.

But he wasn’t.

He gave Yūsaku a long, unimpressed look—one that clearly said, You’re insulting my intelligence—then tilted his head slightly as if to say, Still, go on. I’m curious how deep this hole gets.

As a model listener, Shōichi didn’t interrupt once while Yūsaku spun his elaborate tale.

Even Conan tried to cut in several times, only to be silenced with a firm glare from his father.

Conan shut his mouth helplessly.

Fine. Just treat it as Dad telling another wild story to protect my identity.

But when Yūsaku casually revealed that the “villain” on the floor was actually Kudō Yukiko, Conan’s pupils quaked.

Shōichi only nodded thoughtfully.

“So,” he said slowly, “you’re telling me this was all a game between you and Conan—and that you, Professor Agasa, and Yukiko-san are just acting?”

“Exactly.” Yūsaku nodded again, straight-faced.

Whether Shōichi believed it or not, Conan was trembling beside him.

Without warning, Shōichi crouched and tore off Yukiko’s mask. Conan’s heart plummeted.

In Yukiko’s pupils, his own shaking reflection stared back at him.

The soccer ball rolled innocently back to Conan’s feet. His legs went stiff.

Shōichi nudged the ball away with his shoe and said mildly, “You two really take your games seriously—kicking that hard.”

He glanced meaningfully at Yukiko’s chest.

“Haha…” Conan laughed weakly.

He truly hadn’t known. One moment he was fighting for his life—the next, he’d assaulted his own mother.

He looked at Yukiko, guilt creeping up his spine.

Can ignorance count as a defense? You started it, anyway.

Yukiko’s narrowed eyes radiated pure “motherly love.”

“Even if it’s a game, you have to take it seriously,” Conan stammered.

“Excellent. That’s true sportsmanship,” Shōichi said with a faint smile.

Conan nodded hard.
He had plenty of sportsmanship—he just hoped his mom had some, too.

...

At last, Shōichi was sent away.

At least in Conan’s mind, successfully.

“Do you think he actually bought that nonsense?” Yukiko muttered, tugging irritably at the pink rope.

“Of course not,” Yūsaku sighed. “When he saw how Conan acted, he definitely knew it wasn’t a game. But since I refused to explain, he decided not to push.”

“Now it depends on whether he cares enough to dig,” Yūsaku added. “If he doesn’t, we’re fine. If he does—he’ll find out.”

“Well, let’s ignore him for now.” Yukiko bounced the soccer ball lightly in her hands.

...

Shōichi didn’t stick around to eavesdrop on their family reunion.

He drove straight home.

There, Yuuko-san greeted him with a beaming smile, clutching her phone.

“Shōichi-sama, look! Aren’t these adorable?” she said, showing him photos of Haibara solemnly cutting fruit.

In one shot, she looked dead serious; in another, she was grinning stupidly at the camera.

Shōichi couldn’t help but chuckle.

So Haibara was working that hard at cutting fruit—surely she wasn’t picturing him as the fruit, right?

And that silly smile—she couldn’t be daydreaming about killing him, could she?

…Probably not.

“Haibara-san cut this fruit especially for you,” Yuuko said warmly, handing over a platter. “She was too shy to give it to you herself.”

At the table, Haibara lifted her head slightly.

That was clearly for Yuuko-san, not him. Her imagination was getting too creative.

“Very thoughtful,” Shōichi praised gently.

Haibara said nothing.

Fine. Eat it. Consider it your last meal. Eat well, and have a safe trip—to hell.

...

Night fell again.

While Shōichi slept, Haibara quietly slid the fruit knife into her sleeve and crept toward his room.

This time, she wouldn’t hesitate.

She reached his bedside, raising the knife.

Just then, Shōichi turned over in his sleep.

Haibara froze—but didn’t back away.

I can’t falter again. Last time failed because I hesitated.

“What are you doing?”

His eyes snapped open.

Haibara flinched, stumbled, and fell straight onto him. The knife clattered to the carpet.

Pinned beneath her, Shōichi blinked, then calmly patted her head.

Second time she’s sneaked in at night for cuddles.

Kids these days really were clingy.

Or maybe he was just that irresistible.

“I…” Haibara stammered, face pale.

Her fear of the Organization had her too shaken to speak.

Luckily, Shōichi was patient with kids who struggled to talk.

He stroked her hair gently. “You’re just playing a game with me, aren’t you?”

“A… game?” Haibara echoed blankly.

“The game of Jing Ke assassinating the King of Qin,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s what you’re playing, right?”

“Yes. Exactly.” Haibara nodded quickly.

Then blinked.

Wait, wasn’t I supposed to be the one making that excuse? Why are you supplying it for me?

Are you seriously covering for someone who just tried to kill you?

She’d never realized madness could be so… accommodating.

“It’s late,” Shōichi said gently. “No more games. We’ll continue tomorrow. Go to sleep.”

Haibara tried to retreat, but Shōichi had already pulled her down into the bed.

“I—”

“Oh, right. Do you know Kudō Shinichi?” Shōichi asked suddenly.

“No,” Haibara answered quickly, tense.

Why bring up Kudō Shinichi out of nowhere?

Had he finally seen through her?

“You don’t?” Shōichi murmured. “Today, Kudō Shinichi’s parents were also playing a game with a little boy.”

“Like you, they took it very seriously. You played Jing Ke Assassinating the King of Qin with a real knife, and that boy seriously kicked Yukiko-san.”

Haibara stiffened.

She didn’t know the details, but she could guess—the boy must have been Kudō Shinichi after shrinking.

And whatever “game” the Kudōs were playing had to be the same kind of cover story Yūsaku had given him.

“What were you about to say earlier?” Shōichi asked suddenly.

“Nothing. I’m tired—going to sleep now.”

Haibara shook her head fast, burrowing into the blanket.

She’d just come to play a “game” tonight. Now she was sleepy.

Sleep. Just sleep.

Endure a little longer.

One day, she’d kill Shōichi—and avenge her sister.

Lying low was only temporary.

---

This is a fan translation of 柯南：我在东京当财阀 by 倒霉的菜狗. Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!